Nights, Knights, and Failures
by Nukumi
Summary: NejiHina. Sometimes at night, Hinata cries, and Neji listens.


**Nights, Knights, and Failures**

Sometimes, at night, Hinata cries. It is a quiet sound, barely audiable beyond the confines of her room, but it speaks volumes for her when words fail. She is too passive (_weak_, her father would say), to find release in training, so such has become the manifestation of her frustration. It's a useless habit, much like her stuttering and finger-fiddling, but much more private. She takes great care not to let slip a single drop in public nor in daylight -- to do so would shame the Hyuuga name, and so she carries on venting her anguish in the still of night with muffled sobs. Sometimes her hands try to shield her away from it all; often her pillow is taken prisoner, clutched tightly to her petite body. Her room feels chilly these nights.

Sometimes, at night, Neji listens. He stands outside of the door belonging to the clan heiress and listens to the subdued sounds of suffering. He is too reserved (_cold_, his comrades would say), to find it in himself to declare his presence. It's a stupid habit, born from a few short years of routine, but he finds himself unable (unwilling?) to really rid himself of it. He is extremely cautious to not search for the redness in her eyes, the dark circles underneath them, or the soft scent of salt lingering in her hair in the morning. To show concern would betray his secrecy and reveal his awareness; he mustn't do that. Sometimes his hand hovers over the door knob; often he restrains it in a tight fist by his side. His soul feels empty these nights.

At one point, years ago, he was her Moonlight Knight. When the sun set and the tears fell, he would appear at her side, as sure as the shining stars in the sky. He'd valiantly sneak into her room, as if he didn't fear the grave punishment if caught, and offer his comfort. Everything made poor Hinata-sama cry: her father scolding her, losing a barette, it being too dark in her room, the list went on and on. Little Neji would do whatever he could to make the tiny sparkling rivers trailing her cheeks dry. Sometimes he would whisper to her and try to make her smile. Sometimes he would sneak her something cool, like a beautiful pebble from their garden, or a nice flower he might have found. On the nights when it was the shadows that distressed her, he'd silently lay beside her and rub her back, in a manner not dissimilar to the way his mother used to do him, until she fell asleep. He made it his personal mission to never leave until her tears had stopped, and he took pride in the fact that he'd never failed these missions. After all, he existed to protect her. Surely this was part of his duty.

Then, his father died. Every inclination to calm, every desire to protect vanished from within him. In his young mind, she became the enemy, and he'd be damned if he would provide relief to (as far as he was concerned) one of his father's murderers. He stopped coming to her, and she never came to him. There would be days when a curious glance, a look that so clearly stated _What did I do?_ would be sent his way. On those days, he would simply glare back or ignore her all together. _I'll never forget what you did. I'll never forgive you._ Eventually, she stopped looking. He curses her even more, then chastises himself for even noticing she'd stopped. The first time in a long while that they exchange words, they are both ninja, and the differences between them are more numerous before. He is a hailed genius, a natural at Jyuuken and the ways of the shinobi. She is a disgrace, the first ever main house member to be 'thrown away' into the ninja ranks because she is gentle and thus considered untalented. He makes little hesitation before exacting his revenge.

Time passes.

Hinata no longer cries over missing objects, dark rooms, or harsh words. She doesn't even cry over severe injuries sustained or the lives she takes. She's graceful, demure, and strong in her own measure. The tears she spills are for one person, and one alone. And he barely knows she exists. She stumbles through her days trying to build belief in herself -- because no one else does --, stumbles and falters, but never falls. She keeps herself together long enough to let herself shatter at night, so very alone and so very vulnerable. And sometimes, just sometimes, she allows herself to selfishly wish her Knight would come.

Neji no longer smuggles his heiress trinkets or whispers silly tidbits in her ear. He doesn't stay in her room until dawn or rub her back soothingly. He's a fine shinobi: chiseled, intuitive, and increasingly dangerous in his power. His kindness is for one person, and one alone. And he's damaged that bond irreparably. He keeps his distance from her, because it's not his place to interfere anymore, and keeps close watch over her. His thoughts are regularly haunted by her, and so he cannot stop himself from taking post unnoticed, uninvited, just outside of her door. Sometimes, just sometimes, his mind wonders as to what it would take for her to forgive him_; if_ she will forgive him.

Always, at night, two hearts beat in unison, sharing the same pain. Everything that binds them is everything that tears them apart, and no small bit of salvation can be found. The words unspoken and things left undone linger in the space around them, tense and constricting, and it's only a matter of time before both hearts are broken. Doomed are the two to say their lines and play their parts, because no matter who they are at nightfall, when the daybreaks they are Hyuuga. Weakness and kindness have no place behind their eyes. Such is the way of their clan.


End file.
